Lords of Time
by Jed Rhodes
Summary: A retrospective account of the Time War. Starring the Eighth Doctor, featuring the Jacobi Master, the Scream of the Shalka Doctor, the Ninth Doctor, eventually, the Tenth Doctor and the Simm Master. Now with re-edited chapters, Chapter Seven up.
1. Prologue  The Master Ressurected

The Time Lords stood opposite one another in the Room. They glanced at each other nervously.

The Vortex Room, where resided the great Eye of Harmony. The Eye stod closed at the moment, but maybe not for long...

The three Time Lords were Vortrax, Carnol and Serveck. Vortrax was the Prydonian representative, a small and unimpressive man, with light blue eyes.

Carnol was the representative of the Arcalian academy, a tall noble looking man, with brown eyes and peroxide blonde hair.

And Serveck was the Patraxes candidate, a middle aged appearing man with brown hair, brown eyes and a broken nose that had never healed properly, which everyone assumed he would get rid of come his next regeneration, though he himself quite liked it.

They stared into the expanse before them, each of them debating what they were about to do.

"Are we sure about this?" asked Carnol at last, breaking the tense silence.

"We have no choice", said Serveck, who had thought long and hard about this decision. He was the leader of this group in all but name, and the others followed his orders.

"But how do we know we can trust him?" asked Vortrax, sceptically. "He's as devious a Time Lord as has ever existed."

The three Time Lords looked deep into the swirling expanse. It seemed to mock their indecisiveness.

"He is all but dead", said Serveck at last. "He owes us."

"He is utterly insane", countered Carnol. "He won't care."

Serveck glowered at the others. He had run over all of these arguments in his own head a thousand times, and had come up with this as his answer anyway. Why could they not just accept his decision?

"I have thought about everything you say," he told them, "and all that you say leads me to just one conclusion. WE HAVE NO CHOICE!"

The other two bowed their heads, accepting this.

"Very well then", said Serveck in a faux- calm voice. "Now if that is all?"

The others nodded again.

Then, as one, they all stood forward. A lever came up to each, and each put their hand upon it.

The three looked at each other one last time. This was the point of no return. He would be free after this, and there was no way they could stop him if he ran out of control.

They each pulled the lever they had. The Eye opened, a great swirling Vortex, all blue and green and yellow and red… and in the heart of it there was a figure, only just discernable, twisting in agony.

Then the light receded, and the figure fell to the floor in a heap, naked and sweating. He was red raw, charred and burned, until the light came over him. The new regenerative cycle came to him and restored his shattered frame.

Serveck walked up to him, slowly, cautiously. The contempt on his face was plain as his broken nose.

"You, who insolently call yourself the Master, have been given a final chance", he said, his voice strained. This close to the monster, it was hard not to fell a little disgusted. "For doing a... small task for us, you have been granted a new life cycle, but now you must do the task and repay us."

The Master looked up at him. Young and handsome, blue eyes that were disfigured by the hatred that burnt within them, the insanity that shined clear. None of the Time Lords could bare to look at those eyes for long.

"Why should I help you?" he spat at last.

"Because if you don't, renegade", said Vortrax, "we will put you right back in that Eye to die in horrible pain."

The Master looked at the assembled Time Lords.

"Get me some clothes", he said at last, standing to his feet.

"Why?" asked Carnol slowly.

"I can't do your 'task' naked, can I?" snapped the Master. "Or would you like my various parts on show to the whole cosmos?"

The Time Lords looked at each other in mixed relief and trepidation – and mild amusement.

Serveck turned back to the Master and smiled coldly.

"Very well. Here is what you must do..."


	2. Chapter 1 War Stories

* * *

"That's how it started," the younger looking man said. "Three greedy Time Lords, thinking to get themselves a proper soldier for their war. You'll know all about that, won't you?"

The Doctor looked up at the Master, but his aged face was unreadable, his brown eyes – so like the Master's own – cold and empty.

"Oh, fine," said the Master, "be like that! My point is, the Time Lords asked us both to fight, and both of us did. And now, I'm starting a whole new war, I'd like to hear some stories about the old one. Old soldier's tales, if you will."

The Master knelt in front of the Doctor, stared into the cold, dead eyes.

"Go on, old man. Tell me."

The Doctor stared at him for a moment longer, the eyes growing warmer, more alive.

"You really want to know?" he said at last, softly, so the Master could barely hear him.

"Yes, Doctor," replied the Master, with perfect sincerity. "And if you tell your tales, I'll tell mine."

The Doctor sighed.

"Very well then..."

* * *

**The Doctor's giving the Master the edited version, and the Master's giving us even less, which is typical for him, but we - **_**we**_

** - are privileged in that we get to hear the secrets. The stuff the Doctor doesn't want us to know. The stuff the Master's not telling. The stuff neither of them found out. And it begins, obviously enough, on Gallifrey. This is the tale of the last great time war, and how two great races were totally destroyed…**

"I thought, when we conceded to the act of Master Restitution, that they'd be satisfied," she said, coldy, angrily.

Madam President Romanadvoratrelundar was furious. And she was worried. She concentrated on the anger, letting it flow in chilled bursts of calm words, but keeping the emotion behind them there. She tried ignoring the worry, but it was always there. She forced herself to be angry. Anger was good. It kept people on their toes.

"We all thought that, Madam President, but it appears that they were not," said Vortrax, her cheif adviser. "It seems they've found out about the Master's... exploits, on the planet Earth. And no matter how much we assure them that he is, they refuse to believe that he is dead."

Romana sighed, frustration and anger ebbing, replaced by hopelessness.

"He is dead, though," she said, exasperatedly. "The Doctor assured me that after that business with the Eye of Harmony that he couldn't be alive, and that even if he was, his essence was scattered all over the Time Vortex, never to be seen again."

"Nonetheless, the Daleks believe he is alive," Vortrax said, "And they've stepped up their attacks. The Cruciform has fallen to a full Dalek fleet."

"What!" yelled Romana, horror struck. The Cruciform was the most powerful weapon in existence. The single most powerful weapon that had ever or would ever be created. When functioning properly, it was capable of causing a massive temporal meltdown that would destroy a planet before you could say Vortex, and it wasn't a nice blip-out-of-existence style meltdown either, oh no…

"I know," Vortrax said, clearly sharing her horror at the news. "We had all the protection on it that was possible, but the Emperor is serious this time. Ten Million Dalek battlecruisers are heading for Arcadia, the Cruciform at their head."

Romana sat down This was all too much... the Cruciform, taken? Arcadia, the great Time Lord colony, under attack?

Then she calmed down. Why hadn't she thought of it earlier? It was so simple.

"Don't worry, Vortrax," she said, a smile spreading across her face. "We have a weapon the Daleks could only dream of."

"And what might that be, Madam President?" asked Vortrax sceptically.

"We have the Doctor," she said.

Vortrax's face lit up in dawning comprehension.

"I shall send for him at once, Madam President!" he said, and hurried off.

Romana sat down, and smiled again. K-9 trundled over to her.

"I have contacted the Doctor – master already, mistress," he said, his voice clipped and mechanical as always. "He will be arriving shortly, if my sensors are to be believed, which they are."

Romana patted him on the head. He was an arrogant sod, but she couldn't dream of a life without him.

"Good dog, K-9," she said softly. "Good dog."

She sat back. When the Doctor got here, she would explain, he would help, and the Daleks would be defeated. Just like the good old days.

* * *

Vortrax strode over to Carnol. The other Time Lord had been waiting for him for some time.

"No news from the Master?" he asked as soon as Vortrax reached him.

Carnol shook his head solemnly.

"If we're lucky, they killed him along with all the others," he said. "But if they got him alive..."

Vortrax finished the sentence.

"... then Rassilon knows what he'll tell them. He's not exactly honourable, or trustworthy, is he?"

The two exchanged doleful looks, and then went their separate ways, each hoping that the Master was dead.

* * *

"Ah the Cruciform," the Master said. "I really must try to find that thing, one day, and use it for my war."

"You could look forever, Master, but you'd never find it," the Doctor smiled. "I blew it up."

The Master did a double take.

"You what?" he said. "You blew it up?! How?!"

"All in good time, Master," the Doctor said. "First I had to arrive on Gallifrey, and believe me, that was weird in itself…"


	3. Chapter 2 The Fall of Arcadia

"WHAT?!" the yell echoed through the halls of the Panopticon.

The Doctor was having a really, really bad day. He was currently in his Eighth Incarnation, young (well, middle age-ish), dashing, and ever so slightly Edwardian. And he had been told several bad things at once.

For one thing, he had just learned that the time lords had started a war with the Daleks. Five relative years ago, give or take a couple of months.

For another, he was now being told that the Cruciform, the greatest weapon the Time Lords had ever built, had fallen, and the Daleks were heading for Arcadia, the great Time Lord outpost, intending to destroy it with the Cruciform.

For a third, the Cybermen had sent envoys to the Time Lords, and joined the war on their side. Sounded good, except the Cybermen were some of the Doctor's worst enemies.

And he was only being told all of these things _now_.

"The reasons we didn't tell you at first," explained Romana, his former companion and currently president of the Time Lords, "were because we didn't think we needed to, and we didn't think it'd be worth the bother of getting you here. The Daleks were never much of a threat to _us_, even if they were to the lesser races."

"So why do you need me _now_?" asked the Doctor, mystified. "I mean, if they aren't a threat…"

"Because they are a threat," stated Romana bluntly. "We were wrong. They have ten million ships, and the Cruciform, and we can't stop them."

The Doctor stared at her for a moment, shocked by the very idea of the Cruciform in Dalek hands… plungers… whatever.

"And I can help you, how, exactly?" he asked at last.

"You know more about the Daleks than anyone else," replied Romana imploringly, "so you can help stop them. They fear you, remember?"

"Yes, yes, 'the oncoming storm', but what good can I do?" countered the Doctor. "I'm one man, remember!"

"One man who has stopped the Daleks wherever he has gone," countered Romana. "One man who the Daleks fear more than any other. Gallifrey is counting on you, now, Doctor, you can't just abandon us. You know what happens if the Daleks win."

The Doctor stared at her for a long moment, then realised that he had no choice.

* * *

The Doctor stood in his TARDIS, sighing.

After a rather unfortunate incident with the TARDIS theme swapping software and the Victorian look console room (which had ended rather badly), he had switched to using the secondary control room which, left to its own devices over two or three hundred years, had overgrown somewhat. Coral theme was one thing, this was something quite different. He had a vague memory of being his Fifth self, standing in this very same console room. The memory, however, was quite dim…

"_What's this then? Coral? It's worse than leapord skin…"_

"_All my love to long ago…"_

He couldn't remember the face. Various regenerations and more than one incident of amnesia had driven it from him. But he remembered the voice. The enthusiasm. One day, he thought to himself, I'm going to be that man. It was an interesting thought.

He flicked a switch, and set the course Romana had given He was off to destroy the Cruciform, and any Daleks that happened to be on it. Sounded so simple on paper, but he knew that it wouldn't be like that. He had studied the blueprints for the machine, and was rather… upset by what he had discovered. The destruction of the craft would be difficult to achieve. Still, if anyone could do it, he could.

He spared a glance for his companions. General Vared, commander of the Capitol Guard, and thirty of his best troops, had been ordered to assist him, and they were standing around, looking nervously at the interior.

'Of course,' the Doctor thought to himself, ' none of them have ever been in any TARDIS other than classic theme TARDIS's.'

"How long until we're there?" asked Vared, looking impatiently at the destination screen – a dell laptop top, if the Doctor remembered rightly.

"Not too long, I don't think," replied the Doctor airily.

"Good," the military man said. "I hate waiting."

* * *

A blood curdling scream ripped through the corridors of the Cruciform, which, if anything other than a Dalek had heard it, would have destroyed thier minds in moments. It came from a room, in which two Daleks stood. One was standing back, in a corner, and the other was holding a small red device to a humanoid figure. A Grandfather Clock stood in the corner.

"Cease," came an inhuman voice.

The Dalek pulled back from the weak, dishevelled figure on the torture rack.

"Divulge the secrets of the Time Lords, and you will be tortured no more!" said the voice of the Dalek Emperor.

The man looked at the Emperor. He was in his travel armour, which was rare for him. The man tried to sneer, but he couldn't quite make his face work.

"You have no loyalty to the Time Lords! You owe them nothing!" the Emperor continued, pressing his position.

"I don't resist you out of loyalty to them," said the man. "I resist them out of memory. I do not forget, Emperor."

The Master raised his head, the blue eyes burning.

"You ordered my execution. You shot me personally," he spat, contempt laced throughout his voice, as he gave up almost the last of his strength to say his piece. He had a sudden burst of inspiration. "And I would rather die a hundred deaths, or be tortured for eternity, then ever... help... you!"

The Dalek Emperor, sat in its battle casing, stood silent for a moment, digesting the Master's words.

"Nothing to say?" sneered the Master, his customary arrogance shining now. "I thought not. I'm not finished, anyway."

"Continue," said the Emperor carefully. It hoped that the Master would let something slip during his rants, something vital.

"If you think _I'm_ the worst the Time Lords will send after you, you're sadly mistaken," the Master muttered evilly. "They'll send _him_. He'll come, and every Dalek that exists, will die."

He grinned, showing yellow teeth.

"You don't stand a chance," he finished. "I only regret that I will not be here to watch."

Before the Emperor could speak, the Master jumped off the rack, the manacles opening under a solid lockpick that he had found under his skin. The Time Lords had provided everything. He rolled under their laser fire and went straight for his TARDIS, disguised as a grandfather clock as always.

* * *

He entered, closed the door, and went straight to the controls. The noise of screaming Daleks was instantly shut off.

Pain surged through his body - the Daleks were quite good at torture, and he knew his days were numbered in this form. He smiled, and thought words that he never thought he would.

'Thank God for the Time Lords...'

And then the light came. Bright as a star, burning his old self away, his face changing, becoming younger, cleaner, his hair shortening, his teeth whitening... and he screamed. He had forgotten how painful regenerating was, and in this new form, he doubted he would ever get used to it.

And there stood a new man. Blue eyes, a short nose, short silver hair. The new man spoke his first words, testing them out.

"I... am... the Master..."

He smiled, his eyes lighting up in pure joy.

"IT WORKED!" he yelled, dancing around the room. "I did it! I regenerated! Oh YES!"

He stopped. Fear laced across his features, worry through his mind.

'What if the Daleks find me?' he thought, suddenly. 'They're winning, and they hold grudges almost as much as me...'

He scratched the back of his neck, then stopped and looked at his hand. He'd turned into the Doctor when he was that annoying ponce I the velveteen.

'I have no choice...' he thought. He glanced up to the ceiling of his black TARDIS console room, then he pressed a button on the console, and the chameleon arch sprang down...

* * *

The Doctor's TARDIS materialised in a small corridor of the Cruciform. Inside, Vared and co un shouldered their weaponry. The Doctor checked the scanner.

"Is this the place?" asked Vared.

"Only one way to find out," replied the Doctor. He thought it was, but he was never too careful.

They went outside.

The TARDIS had landed next to a viewport. Visible in the window was a beautiful planet, pinkish clouds swirling over a pale purple sea, and green land...

The Doctor looked out at it. The planet wasn't so much as interesting as the things above it.

Dalek ships flew everywhere, dog fighting against little diamond shaped ships, firing down on the surface...

"Arcadia..." said Vared, horror evident in his voice. "The Cruciform has reached Arcadia…"

"Not any more," the Doctor said grimly. "This is the Fall of Arcadia. We were too late."

Staring at the death of a world, the Doctor vowed that this was the end. The Daleks would pay for this.

"Come on, Vared," he said softly. "We have work to do."


	4. Chapter 3 Regeneration

**The HMS Valiant.**

"I see," the Master said, interrupting the flow of the Doctor's words. "So you landed on the Cruciform?"

The Doctor stopped talking, and sighed. The Master stared for a moment, then snapped.

"Well?!"

The Doctor stared at him now, annoyance plain on his old face.

"Let me catch my breath," he grumbled. "It's alright for you, I happen to have the body of a one hundred and forty year old man."

The Master snapped his mouth shut. He'd momentarily forgotten that. He thought about restoring the Doctor's youth, but that would just be bad for his rep – helping his prisoner just to hear a story.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, seeing the Master's silence. Then he smiled.

"What?" asked the Master.

"You used me as a threat?" he said. "I'm touched. I didn't know I was so scary."

The Master waved his hand.

"Doesn't matter. Get on with the story."

The Doctor smiled again, and then pressed on with his tale.

"Vared and co turned out to be very useful. It pays to have military backup on a ship infested with Daleks. I had a plan, at any rate. To destroy the Cruciform, all we needed to do was overload the temporal reactor..."

* * *

"Doctor!" yelled Vared, over the bolts of death flying around him. "We can't hold them for long!"

The Doctor, working quietly and tensely at the Cruciform engine room, pulled a lever, flicked a switch and pressed a big red button.

"Don't worry, I only need thirty seconds at best," he called back, his voice calm and controlled.

Vared turned back to the corridor, hoping he could indeed deliver that much time.

Only twelve of his men had survived, and they were being steadily whittled down by persistent Dalek attacks. Vared blasted three more Daleks in as many shots, but there were hundreds left to take their place. The swarmed like some unholy metal insects through the hole in the doorway they'd blasted.

"Doctor," he called, blasting another Dalek, "has it occurred to you how we're going to get out of here through all these Daleks?!"

The Doctor didn't reply. He just kept working.

"Doctor!" called Vared again.

"Don't worry General," the Doctor called back. "I have a plan."

He didn't, of course. As per usual, he was just winging it. But this was more important then him or Vared, or any ONE person. The Cruciform in Dalek hands was almost too horrible to contemplate.

He flicked another switch, and then braced himself. This could hurt.

He pulled the final lever.

And held it down.

The energy built up, warming the lever up somewhat, but he held on. He had to…

* * *

Vared heard a terrible scream from inside the room. Had the Daleks found another way in? Was that the Doctor's death scream?

He pulled back, and ducked inside, bracing himself for the worst.

And it was worse then that.

The Doctor was holding down a lever, energy wracking his body. Whenever he moved, there was a temporal echo that moved in a different direction. The Temporal engines were dying, knackering the temporal engine - and taking the Doctor with them.

Vared stared, horror struck, for just a moment longer, unable to help, and then the Doctor was suddenly thrown backwards, ramming into the wall.

Before he could even begin to move to help him, another scream came from behind him, and he was amzed to see the Doctor, collapsing to the ground, smouldering slightly.

Vared looked in amazement as two Doctor's lay on the floor. The one closest to the lever was pale, his skin mottled, still as death, the other was already stirring, rubbing his head and getting to his feet.

As Vared moved to help the more injured one, a wheezing groaning sound filled the air, and the Doctor's TARDIS materialised.

"Well don't just stand there, help me up!" said the stirring Doctor.

Vared grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet, still wearing his astonished expression.

"What's the matter?" asked the Doctor, before looking down at his Doppelganger.

"Ah," he said, almost dumbstruck. "That's not right."

He turned to Vared, who was wearing the same expression the Doctor had now adopted.

"I set the engines to overload," he said. "The Cruciform will explode in minutes, and the TARDIS is right there. I suggest we leave."

Vared nodded, snapping himself out of his reverie at last.

"Capitol Guard! Orderly withdrawal!" he called.

Six Guardsmen pulled back through the door, laying down suppressing fire to hold the Daleks back. Two of them helped the unconscious Doctor into the TARDIS, and the Doctor and Vared entered.

The TARDIS dematerialised just as the Daleks entered.

"Where are they?" called one of the enraged Daleks.

"They have escaped!" yelled another.

"Activate the Cruciform!" a third screeched. "We will exterminate Arcadia once and for all!"

And so screaming, they didn't notice the time engines starting to warp...

* * *

From space it looked something like this. The Cruciform, a giant cross in space, with energy crackling at one end, started buckling, and warping, then it exploded.

It lit the skies of Arcadia - then burned them away. The Dalek fleet was eradicated, the defending time lord ships - what was left of them - burned out of the sky. Arcadia itself was scorched...

The Doctor stared at the destruction he had caused.

"It all seems such a waste now, doesn't it?" he said softly. "So pointless."

Vared put his hand on the Doctor's shoulder, saying nothing. The Doctor sighed, then turned to his double, who was lying on a sofa.

He was quite still.

"Is he alive?" asked Vared. "Is he going to regenerate?"

The Doctor smiled at him, and held a finger up to shush him.

"Watch," he said. "And wait."

And they did. As they watched, the Doctor on the sofa started glowing, a soft light at first, gradually building up, covering his features, whiting out his face and hands...

Then the light receded, slowly, revealing a new man.

Pointed nose, black hair streaked with silver, sallow complexion, sideburns...

He opened his eyes, and they were an electric blue.

He stared up at the other Doctor.

"Oh pants," he said.

He sat up, looked around, and stared at the Eighth Doctor for a full minute.

"You're not supposed to be here," he said at last. "You're gone."

"Evidently not," the Eighth smiled.

"What's the last thing you remember?" asked Vared gently.

The Ninth Doctor (for he was) looked thoughtful for a moment, which was quite difficult considering his position, and then he answered.

"I was pulling a lever... back on the Cruciform," he said. "Trying to make it explode, I can't remember…"

He clicked his fingers, and sat up a bit.

"The Cruciform!" he yelled. "Did we sort out the Cruciform, Vared old chap?"

Vared looked taken aback at being addressed as "old chap", but the Eighth Doctor answered.

"It's gone, blown to bits."

"And Arcadia?" the Ninth Doctor asked.

"Gone as well," the Eighth said sadly.

The Ninth Doctor looked utterly horrified for just a moment, then shrugged and stood up.

"Oh well," he said, sighing. "Life goes on, and all that. I need some new clothes..."

And with that, he walked off to find the TARDIS wardrobe.

Vared looked at the Eighth Doctor in shock.

"'Life goes on?'" he repeated, appalled.

The Eighth Doctor smiled grimly, then looked in the direction his future/alternate self went.

"As I said after my Fourth regeneration, that's the trouble with regeneration," he said. "You never know how it's going to turn out. Or," he added, as if it was an afterthought, "who you're going to be saddled with."

The Doctor looked at Vared, then sighed and sat down on the chair his future/alternate.

"As visions of the future go, it's quite horrible..."

The Dalek Emperor sat in the temporal escape pod, surrounded by his personal guard. In a matter of hours, Dalek ships would pick up his distress signal, and he would be put back in his main casing...

He vowed vengeance for the Daleks. The Doctor would pay, as would the whole Time Lord race.

The fleet would attack Gallifrey, and it would burn...


	5. Chapter 4 Trauma

* * *

"Two of you!"

The Master was shocked, and appalled, and slightly scared. Two Doctor's? What next, three Captain Jacks?

The Doctor smiled, his leathery skin crinkling as he did so.

"Two of me, Master. Though that wasn't _nearly_ as weird as what happened next..."

* * *

The Ninth Doctor, resplendent in full Gothic Victoriana, barrelled into the Console room, like he owned the place.

"Must redecorate around here," he said. "The place is far too regal and stuck up, and it lacks that certain… pazazz!"

"Do you mind?" said the Eighth Doctor, irritated, "I don't need a parallel/alternate/future… whatever you're supposed to be, running around _my_ TARDIS, thank you very much!"

The Ninth Doctor looked at him. His clothes were somewhat more gothic Victoriana then the Eighths were, and while the Eighths were very romantic, dashing, the Ninth's were dark, moody, broody and various other oody's.

"I'll have you know that I consider this _my_ TARDIS, thank you!" the Ninth countered.

The Eighth Doctor sighed dramatically.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "We'll be on Gallifrey soon. With any luck, they'll reward you with your own TARDIS so you don't have to gallivant around _mine_."

He emphasised this last word, because this was his TARDIS, and nobody was kicking him out. Least of all some future/alternate/bloody Count Duckula impersonator of a Ninth Incarnation.

* * *

Romana was on edge. It wasn't just the three Cybermen that stood across the room that troubled her, but a genuine sense of foreboding...

She shook it aside.

"It's agreed then," she said. "You'll supply us with four thousand Cyber Troops, in return for time travel tech, of a decent standard."

"Agreed," said the Cyberleader. It was tall, skeletal, sleek, silver, and reminded Romana of the bad old days.

"Good," she smiled, though anyone but a Cyberman could have told that it was forced. "See you on the battle lines."

She turned to leave as the Cybermen marched out, but Vortrax came in before she could go rest. She cursed. This incarnation is getting run off its feet, she thought. Next regeneration, I'm going to someone who can run a mile in a minute, then maybe I'll be fast enough for all these people who need me for one thing or another.

"Madam President," Vortrax said, seemingly flustered, "the Doctor has returned."

"Was his mission successful?" asked Romana.

"At great cost, yes," the little advisor replied. "Arcadia is gone, only six of Vareds men survived and... something's happened to the Doctor."

"Has he regenerated?" Romana asked. That was the last thing she needed – a crazy Doctor.

"Yes..." said Vortrax, "and no."

"He either has or he hasn't," said Romana, irritated. "Which is it?"

"Well," Vortrax said, slowly, "there are now two of them..."

Romana sighed. Always this sort of thing happened whenever the Doctor got involved. More than one, or parallel versions, or something else… honestly.

"Send them too me," she said, hoping to make sense of this. She sat down, and waited...

* * *

"I am the Ninth Doctor, Madam president," the Doctor said, to clarify. As if as an afterthought, he added, "and I dare say I'm an improvement."

The Eighth Doctor snorted loudly from next to him.

"Doctor's please!" yelled Romana. "This is all rather confusing..."

The Eighth Doctor nodded understandingly, but the Ninth Doctor banged his fist on the table.

"There being two of us is, in itself, not a problem, Romana" he shouted. "The problem is, the Daleks wanted Arcadia gone, and it is. Their next target, rather obviously, will be -"

"- Gallifrey," finished the Eighth Doctor solemnly. "They're a new design, too. The Emperor obviously united the warring factions. They've upgraded their armour to full battle mode, in a rather unflattering bronze."

"And it's pretty obvious that they won't settle for anything less then the total destruction of the Time Lords, and Gallifrey with them" added the Ninth Doctor.

He bunched his hands into a tight ball, and then spread them out in a flowery pattern.

"Kerplowy!" he yelled, causing everyone else in the room to wince.

Romana sighed. This new Doctor was volatile, and slightly manic. He was also rather rude.

She was further worried by his sudden collapse.

The Eighth Doctor came to his side in an instant, kneeling by him. His eyes were closed, but there was rapid movement, and he was sweating.

"Regenerative trauma," he said. "He's going haywire. Overexerted himself too, I reckon."

He helped the Ninth Doctor to his feet, and half walked, half dragged him away.

* * *

The problem, the Doctor realised as he walked with his future/alternate self, was that the Ninth Doctor had come into being outside his own TARDIS. The Eighth wasn't being arrogant now - he was the original Doctor, this man was the copy. And without a TARDIS of his own, he would die. Time Lords without something to keep them stable invariably ended up piles of goop.

And people thought he didn't know anything about regeneration. Hah!

The Doctor wracked his brains, trying to come up with the perfect solution.

'Think Doctor, think!' he thought. 'There must be..."

He slapped his forehead. Of course! Where else are you going to find antique models?

The Doctor ran for the TARDIS museums.

* * *

The TARDIS museum was the only place, outside of the transduction bay where his resided, where you could find a Type 40 TARDIS. He could just find a modern Type 97 without half the hassle, but he wanted the Ninth Doctor to be as comfortable as possible in his new home, and a Type 40 would do the trick easily. He owed his future/alternate self that.

The Doctor found a Type 40 in the "antique models" section, after a brief trawl, and dragged the Ninth Doctor inside it.

Inside it was just as bland as his had been, just as boring and just as magnificent. He needed to get the Ninth to bond with it, so he needed to wake him up...

"Your hair is last century, and you clothes are awful!" he yelled, in desperation.

The Ninth Doctor opened his eyes slowly.

"Says you, Wild Bill Hickok..." he murmured weakly.

"Excellent, you're awake," the Eighth Doctor beamed. "This TARDIS needs to move, so move it!"

The Ninth Doctor set himself up against the Console, and flicked a switch.

Almost immediately, the room began to darken. The walls expanded, the light in the roundels changed from bright yellow to a cool evening light, and the console controls became older, silver, as if they had come from an old airplane from Earths mid twentieth century. A circuit behind one of the roundels sparked, and, for two seconds, the destination monitor read "London 1963". Then, with a great "vworp vworp", the new Type Forty landed.

The Ninth Doctor stood up a little straighter, and looked around in bewilderment.

"Was what just happened really what I think just happened?" he asked, his voice stronger, more certain, and slightly suspicious. He glared at his previous/alternate incarnation.

The Eighth Doctor clapped him on the back, and grinned.

"Welcome to your new TARDIS!"

* * *

Deep in space, the Dalek Emperors fleet prepared. Ten Million ships, bronze and saucer shaped, all with a single purpose. The Extermination of Gallifrey...


	6. Chapter 5 Birth of the Cult of Skaro

The Dalek fleet entered Gallifreys solar system, and attacked the first few outposts in seconds.

The Gallifreyan weapons wreaked severe casualties on the invaders, but they failed to make any significant impact given the number of enemy ships there were. They had never had to fight a fight against a force quite as large as this, and within moments, they were overwhelmed. The Dalek fleet blew the Gallifreyan defences to pieces using their missiles, and continued.

The Daleks began preparations to assault Gallifrey itself, but it would take a while, and they knew they had lost the element of surprise. The Transduction Barriers were up, and they could only be destroyed with powerful weaponry concentrated on a single point. The weapon that they had planned on using was the Cruciform, eliminating the need for any other weapons but, with it's destruction, the Daleks had to rethink slightly.

But they were Daleks. They had patience. _When_ they killed the Time Lords didn't matter.

So long as they _did_.

* * *

The Dalek glided into the Emperors chamber, nervous. It had never met it's leader before.

"Come forward," came the voice of the Emperor, echoing out of the darkness.

The Dalek obeyed, as it was programmed to..

"You are a young Dalek," the voice continued. "You can be molded. This is why you are here."

A compartment opened, revealing a shiny black casing.

"This is your new casing," said the Emperor. "Inspect it."

The Dalek did so, confused.

"My Emperor, I am not ungrateful but... Why am I being given a new casing? Am I being reassigned?"

"You are," confirmed the Emperor. "You will be given command of a new task force, codenamed the 'Cult Of Skaro', which will be assigned special missions."

"My Emperor, it is a privilege to serve."

"You will be given a name," continued the Emperor. "It will be Dalek Sec."

"A... name?"

"The Cult of Skaro must imagine. To imagine, you will need individuality. Names will help you in that purpose. You must think as the enemy thinks, see how the enemy see's. Victory comes through understanding."

"My Emperor."

"Go now, prepare for the casing transfer."

"My Emperor."

* * *

"We will invade Gallifrey in 20078 rels and counting," the tannoy stated calmly. "Prepare the army."

The Dalek Commander was, despite the fact that he knew it was a mortal crime against the Dalek creed, nervous.

Assaulting the Time Lords... that would be a difficult mission. Millions of Daleks would die, and the fleet would be shattered. Was it worth it?

That was the thought that assailed him constantly.

At least, it was until this new commander of this special taskforce came up upon him.

He was a black Dalek, a supreme commander, and you could tell from the shininess of his armour that he was a recent promotion, rather than a veteran command unit. But he was intimidating - almost thirty five millimetres taller than the regular Dalek, and he _felt _more dangerous.

When he spoke, his voice was deeper than most Daleks.

**"What is the status of the special ship you were ordered to create?"**

"It is still only half completed. Dalek Engineers are working at an almost constant pace, and it's completion is estimated in 900 rels."

The Dalek Supreme's eye light narrowed.

**"I will assign Dalek Kalon to assist your engineers. He has the effective knowledge of two thousand separate engineers within his mind, so he will be of aid to you in your efforts."**

"Dalek... Kalon? He has a name?"

**"All of our taskforce have names. I am Dalek Sec, the leader-unit, and my orders will be obeyed."**

Sec's eye light narrowed again.

**"You are... nervous**?" he asked.

"No!" yelled the Dalek Commander. "That would be a perversion of the great -"

**"You will answer truthfully!" **barked Sec.

The Commander knew that this Sec would kill him for being nervous, but he would follow his orders.

"I am, Commander."

**"My name is Sec!" **Sec barked. **"Explain your nervousness!"**

"The Time Lords are the only race to rival our own - is not challenging them foolhardy? There will surely be much death of Dalek kind, and for little gain – Gallifrey is not a strategically viable planet, and the Time Lord technology would be destroyed as soon as they were."

Dalek Sec stared at him for a moment, then spoke again.

**"You are a free thinker..." **he said slowly. "**Not held solely to the dogma of the Dalek Creed that has mired our race in an evolutionary cul de sac. The Cult Of Skaro needs Daleks of your caliber."**

"What?" asked the Dalek Commander, shocked. "I do not understand."

**"What is your designation?" **asked Sec.

"299874657," replied the Commander without thinking.

**"You are now assigned to the Cult Of Skaro, with the name Caan. you will be my second."**

"I obey!"

**"You must do more than obey,"** said Sec. **"You must imagine. Prepare the ship, the rest of the Cult will arrive shortly."**

The newly named Caan turned, and saw to it that his Dalek Engineers worked double time. He no longer felt nervous.

He felt fulfilled.

Gallifrey would fall.

The Daleks would be triumphant.

That, at least, was certain…


	7. Chapter 6 the Master Rebooted

"So," Romana said, "let me get this quite clear

"So," Romana said, "let me get this quite clear. You," she indicated the Ninth Doctor, "are out of phase with the rest of this continuum and so you couldn't latch on to a TARDIS... oh I give up," she finished, exasperatedly.

The Eighth Doctor, the Ninth Doctor, and Vared were all in her office, after hearing that the Dalek fleet was above Gallifrey, and the President had been quite confused by what had happened to the Ninth Doctor, and why linking him to an old Type Forty from a museum helped.

"It really is quite simple," the Eighth Doctor said, in his explaining everything to the dumb companion voice – as most other people thought of it, not him. "This other me is out of phase. When a Time Lord regenerates, he needs something to sustain all that temporal energy, stop it from going haywire and killing him. On Gallifrey – as you know – the Eye of Harmony sustains us, and powers everything, yada yada," Romana nodded exasperatedly here, prompting him to nod and continue, "Now, the way I could tell that he was out of phase was that he regenerated in the TARDIS – my TARDIS – and still felt too ill to carry on, what with the collapsing and such –"

"And so," the Ninth Doctor continued, "I needed to be linked to another TARDIS, and that's exactly what he did."

The Ninth Doctor turned to his counterpart with a frown on his face.

"Though why you couldn't have given me a better model than a broken old Type Forty, I'll never understand."

"Well," the Eighth protested, "I thought you'd be happier with a model you're used to..."

"Doctors!" Vared shouted, causing everyone in the room to jump. "Please! This doesn't help anyone! Now, we need to discuss what to do about the Dalek threat."

The Doctor's stared at him for a moment, shocked at his outburst. Then the Ninth Doctor nodded.

"Of course, you're right, Vared."

The Eighth Doctor turned to Romana.

"The Dalek fleet has been above Gallifrey for five hours now – they must be prepared for an assault."

"They must be," Romana concurred, "but so are we. Ten thousand capitol guardsmen are prepared to defend the Citadel, and all the outsiders, shobogans and other riff raff are ready to fight as well. Add to that the Cyber troops we've got with us…"

"I still don't get why the Time Lords are allied to the Cybermen," the Ninth Doctor frowned. "We can defend this planet without them, surely?"

"The Daleks winning would be bad for everyone, Doctor," Romana replied. "The Cybermen offered to help, in return for time travel tech."

The Eighth Doctor blanched.

"Time travel tech?!" he yelled. "You mean you're actually giving those things time travel technology, from the heart of Gallifrey?!"

"Of course not," Romana snapped. "We're giving them crude stuff – Time Vortex manipulators, that sort of thing."

"TIME VORTEX MANIPULATORS?!" the Ninth Doctor bellowed. "So instead of giving them dodgy blueprints, or selling them out, or using them as cannon fodder, you're going to give them those… those… space hoppers of the vortex to wreak havoc with?! Good grief Romana!"

"Anyway!" she said, her tone of voice brooking no interruption. "Back to the situation at hand. Now, the Daleks will eventually be able to get past the transduction barriers, it's only a matter of time. Do you have any advice, Doctors?"

"Recall the renegades," Eight said at once.

"Resurrect the Master," Nine offered. "I'm sure his essence is floating about the Time Vortex somewhere."

"Try getting some of those Bow-ships from the dark times," Eight suggested.

"Or some N-forms," Nine added. "That might just work."

The two Doctors ran through various suggestions with Romana, thinking up ideas, guessing, plotting, planning. After about an hour, Romana called Vortrax in,

"Vortrax," she said to the nervous little Time Lord, "I need you to recall all renegade Time Lord TARDIS's, understand?"

"Yes, madam president," he said.

"And see if you can't resurrect the Master," Romana continued, glancing at the Doctor. "We'll need someone of his calibre."

Vortrax widened his eyes slightly.

"The M-Master?" he squeaked.

"Yes, the Master," Romana confirmed. "Is there some problem?"

"Not at all, madam president," Vortrax said. "I was merely surprised. What can a murdering, corrupt and altogether unpleasant being like him do to help us?"

"Quite apart from the fact that he has a grudge against the Daleks," the Eighth Doctor said, "he's also a very dangerous opponent, with some radical free thinker ideas."

"And life's been awfully hum drum without him," the Ninth Doctor added. The Eighth Doctor gave him a queer look, so he added "well it's true, isn't it? You were certainly getting bored with the same old maniacs time and again…"

"So find him, resurrect him, and bring him to us," Romana finished. "Well, go!"

Vortrax bowed, and left.

* * *

Outside the office, Vortrax quickly got a communicator out, and contacted his fellows.

"Carnol," he hissed. "Serveck! We have a massive problem. Meet me in the Eye of Harmony room…"

When he got there, his colleagues were waiting for him.

"Well?" Serveck said "What is it?"

"She wants us to resurrect the Master," Vortrax glowered.

"What?!" Carnol yelped. "But… but…"

"What did you tell her?" Serveck said calmly.

"I told her nothing," Vortrax said. "I said I would see to it."

"See to it?!" Carnol yelped. "We already bloody resurrected him, and he's dead again! We can't just…"

"Calm yourself," Serveck said. "We can resurrect him, and we will. His essence will have scattered across the vortex when he was sucked in, and that means…"

"That means what?!" Carnol yelled. "We dead! When she finds out what we did, who we've been working with…"

Fast as lightening, Serveck drew a pistol, and shot Carnol in the stomach. The yelping Time Lord yelped once again, and fell backwards, moaning for a moment. Vortrax watched him in horro, while Serveck merely looked bored.

After a minute, Carnol glowed, and regenerated into a slightly taller man with dark hair and silver eyes.

"Do you mind telling me what that was for?!" he snarled.

"Your previous incarnation was getting on my nerves," Serveck explained, "and panicking too much. You seem to have become more forceful now, though."

"Yes, well," Vortrax said quietly, from the corner. "Aside from that, how the hell do we resurrect the Master, when we already did?"

Serveck smiled.

"One thing about me you should have realised now, my friends," he said, "is that I always have a contingency plan."

He pressed a button on his console, and a door hissed open. In a small compartment, there was a figure, tall and thin, wearing a dark suit.

"Who is that…?" asked Carnol, temporarily forgetting his rage at Serveck.

"The Master," Serveck replied matter-of-factly. "More specifically, an android copy, containing all of the Master's memories, experiences and personality. I copied it when the Master – the real Master – was resurrected by us, in case we should ever need him."

"Amazing," Vortrax said. "So…"

"You deliver him to the Doctors and the President," Serveck said, "And that's your job done."

"Does it remember anything?" Carnol asked.

"He," Serveck said, correcting his colleague, "remembers everything up to the events of his being trapped in the vortex. He's also programmed with a moral compass the real one lacked."

"I shall deliver him to Madam President at once!"

* * *

"What on Earth have you done to him?!" the Ninth Doctor yelled, as the Master android was wheeled in. "Why is he like this?! WHY?!"

"Please calm yourself Doctor," Vortrax said. "He is currently deactivated –"

"DEACTIVATED?!" the Ninth Doctor shouted. "What have you done?!"

"We couldn't resurrect him in a proper body," Vortrax lied smoothly. "But we had this android built ages ago, in case you ever wanted to resurrect the Master for trail."

"I see," the Eighth Doctor said calmly. Unlike his future/alternate incarnation, he had expressed no outrage at his old foes state.

"Poor man," the Ninth murmured. "He must be in torment. Activate him."

Vortrax concurred, and the Master opened his eyes. They were blue, and furiously alive.

"Where am I?" he said.

"My office," Romana said from behind the Doctor's.

"Why am I here?" he said.

"To help," the Ninth Doctor said. "Atone for your crimes."

The Master focused on him, and looked confused for a moment.

"Where are the drums?" he asked. "Why can't I hear the drums?"

"It's alright," the Ninth Doctor said, "you're fine, just let me get you down…"

The Eighth Doctor watched as the Ninth helped the Master out. He turned away…

* * *

"So they made an android me," the Master mused, as the Doctor paused. "Well, I knew they were sneaky, but damn."

"Yes," the Doctor said. "My other self was rather outrages by what had happened to you, and insisted on taking care of you the best he could."

"Nice of him," the Master said. "And you…?"

"I didn't want anything to do with it," the Doctor said. "I didn't see a point. He – you – were a murderer, who had tried to destroy Gallifrey several times. Why should I help you?"

"Why d'you think your alternate self did?"

"More forgiving personality, I guess," the Doctor shrugged. "Don't ask me." Anyway, carrying on…"


	8. Chapter 7 Beginning of the End

* * *

The Eighth Doctor flicked a switch on the panel, and an image of the Dalek fleet above Gallifrey came up.

"Now," he said, "unless there is some miracle, the Dalek fleet will break through the transduction barrier in twenty hours. Now, we can't hold off that kind of force for a significant amount of Time – there're millions of Daleks, and only a few of us – and the fact that they've got the Deathsmiths of Goth on side is rather… worrying to say the least."

"Get on with it!" the Ninth Doctor called from his chair. The Eighth Doctor closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them again and continued.

"Now, we have the advantage of having all of the best Time Lord minds to hand. I'd like to call…" here he gulped apprehensively, "… the Rani to the fore."

A tall, beautiful, but cold woman with dark red hair stood up. She had regenerated recently, and it had been a success. She nodded at the Doctor curtly as she passed him, then flicked a button herself.

"Now," she said, her voice a sharp instrument that demanded the attention of those present, "as you are well aware, the Movellans created a Dalek killer virus. I have recently made a breakthrough, causing this virus to now be completely incurable, yet effective only on Dalek DNA."

"Won't the Daleks have planned for that?" one of her audience queried. She glared at him.

"We shall have to hope not," she said. "And if they have, I've a selection of things in my TARDIS that will make them more than a little edgy…"

"Excellent," the Eighth Doctor said, standing up and clapping. "Now, I call the Master to the fore."

The android Master stood up, and smiled softly. He walked to the front of the room, and looked at every single person there.

Finally, he spoke. "I have a plan. We – that is to say, all of the Time Lords, have been too squeamish about fighting these Daleks on their own terms."

"What do you mean?" one of the Time Lords seated asked.

"We continue to dither whilst they are above our heads," the Master clarified. "Well, we can dither no longer. We must use the full power available to us."

"The full power?" the Ninth Doctor asked.

"The Time Vortex."

Instantly there was uproar. Time Lords were calling for the Master to be silenced, but the Eighth and Ninth Doctors were staring at each other. They both knew that the Master was right.

The Time Vortex was the only way for victory to be achieved.

--

"How the hell can we use the Time Vortex?" Romana yelled. The Doctors winced – she'd never been like this when she was with them.

"It's simple really," the Ninth Doctor said. "We use a volunteer, absorb the Time Vortex, and wipe out the Daleks. Done."

"It's not quite as simple as that," the Eighth Doctor said. "The Time Lord that does it will lose their current regeneration, but if he or she controls it well enough, it'll annihilate the Dalek fleet easily."

Romana looked at them both in abject shock.

"You are seriously," she finally said, slowly and deliberately, "considering an idea from the _Master_, a man who would gladly kill all the Time Lords everywhere, and asking a Time Lord to sacrifice a regeneration, all in the vain hope that the Time Vortex will give Gallifrey the edge it needs, when clearly it won't!"

"Why not?" the Eighth Doctor asked.

"Because…" Romana spluttered, "Well, because! You don't just meddle with the Time Vortex!"

"Why not?" the Ninth Doctor asked.

"Besides," Romana continued, ignoring him, "who would sacrifice a body to that sort of plan?"

"I would," both Doctors said simultaneously. They stared at each other, and frowned.

"Well, the answer is no," Romana said. "I won't allow this plan to be even talked about any longer."

"It's the only way!" the Eighth Doctor said. "The Daleks will destroy Gallifrey if you don't do this."

Romana stood up, her eyes flashing in anger, her fingers clutching at the desk, the knuckles white. She narrowed her eyes at the Doctors.

"No," she said, slowly, through gritted teeth. "it's not. And they won't."

She walked from the room, leaving the Doctors alone.

"What is it about being President that turns people from nice, polite honest people, to horrible arrogant idiots?" asked the Ninth Doctor.

"No idea," the Eighth Doctor replied. "But I dare say that it seems obvious what we should do now."

"Disobey her and ask forgiveness rather than permission?" the Ninth Doctor asked with a smirk.

"You read my mind," the Eighth smiled. "Come on!"

They ran from the room.

--

The Dalek fleet fired the weapons the Deathsmiths had given them. The transduction barrier of Gallifrey, it's only defence it had against outside assault, finally collapsed. On his flagship, the Dalek Emperor looked down at the destruction, and was pleased.

"Begin the invasion!" he yelled. Dalek troopers hurried to obey his orders.

--

The Bowfleet, a relic of the old wars, locked targeting systems on the Dalkek fleet. They didn't know why they were here, but these Daleks were the enemy, so they had to be destroyed.

--

Romana watched the transduction barrier fall. She closed her eyes, and tears spilled down her face.

"So it begins," she said. "Order the Bowfleet to attack."

--

In space, the Dalek fleet suddenly found itself being fired upon. The Bowfleet assaulted from the side. The Daleks retaliation caused horrific casualties, and soon, the two fleets were locked in deadly combat. The weapons of the Deathsmiths caused terrible damage to the Bowfleet, and their dimensional destructor beams caused truly horrendous damage in return.

--

In a room in the Eighth Doctors TARDIS, the two Doctors were working on getting the Time Vortex out. It wasn't quite as easy as they'd anticipated, but they persevered. The android Master was standing there, watching intently, quite calm.

Suddenly, the scanner came alive, and a Time Lord in grey robes appeared.

"Doctors, we require your help. The Daleks have begun an invasion of Gallifrey."

The scanner went dark. The two Doctors looked at each other.

"You go," Eight said. "I have more regenerations than you, so it makes sense that I should be the one to do this."

Nine nodded, and walked out briskly, the Master following. The Eighth Doctor watched them go. The android Master seemed to have bonded with the Ninth Doctor. He'd finally found redemption.

The Eighth Doctor continued with his work.

--

"So you missed the fight?" the Master asked incredulous. "You missed the Death of the Time Lords?!"

"Yes, I was too busy trying to find a way of saving them," the Doctor said. "Like I told you, only I could find a way to stop it. And I tried, I really did, but…"

"But?"

"But by the time I did, it was too late. The Dalek fleet was dancing on Gallifrey's corpse."

The Master looked into his eyes.

"So that's it?" he said. "That's the story of the Time War, by the Doctor?"

"Not quite," the Doctor smiled, then his smile faded. "A bit of the infrastructure of Gallifrey was – and is – left. A husk. A wreck. After it was over, I looked it over, and pieced together what happened."

"What happened?" the Master asked.

The Doctor looked at him, then began the tale of the end…


	9. Chapter 8 The Death of Gallifrey

The Ninth Doctor stood. He stared out as the legions of Dalek ships flew down, raining destruction as they came.

"For we are truly at the end of days," he murmured. The robotic Master behind him said nothing, but quietly watched the annihilation. He was almost sad, if it weren't for the fact that he had spent his lives trying to destroy the home he had scorned.

"I'd call this a moment to pull a rabbit out of a hat, Doctor," he murmured.

"What rabbit?" the Doctor said. "I haven't got any answers. The other fellow's doing something, but he'll be too late - I can just tell."

"Then let's do something worth remembering," the Master suggested. "Go out with a bang."

The Doctor turned on him, and smiled softly.

"You know?" he said. "That sounds like a rather good idea."

--

Dalek Sec led his units into battle against the Time Lord forces. His mission was planned as a backup, in case the main assault failed – or the Doctor came up with a way to defeat them.

The forty three strong Cult of Skaro, a unit of free thinkers, blasted their way through logic traps and staser cannons, taking casualties as they went. Sec knew he needed only four to survive. Dalek Caan would be one, he knew – Caan was a born survivor, exterminating anything in his path. Dalek Jast and Dalek Thay were also possible survivors. Dalek Kalon had been another one to consider, but he had died fighting an entire unit of Gallifreyan Capitol Guards. Bravery was all well and good in a thinking Dalek, but not when it got you killed.

Their target – codenamed the Genesis Ark – was a ship designed by the Time Lords to carry their prisoners to Shada, the great prison moon. It would be used to store approximately five million Dalek reinforcements in case the battle went awry.

--

Thousands of Dalek ships flew into Gallifreys lower atmosphere, laying down a carpet of destructive missile fire. The Time Lord's dome withstood it all, but when the Daleks themselves attacked, they broke through the small cracks and into the Citadel.

Death reigned in the streets, as the Time Lords soldiers destroyed wave after wave, the Daleks exterminated women and children, and slowly but surely, the Citadel fell...

The Rani died in the process of unleashing a virus – it killed thousands of Daleks, but the Citadels auto-atmosphere cleanser killed it before it could do any real damage.

Drax, the great expert in technology, managed to build a device that could vaporise Dalek armour without harming anything else. Unfortunately, he was killed before he could activate it, and it was blown to pieces.

--

The Doctor transmatted into the chamber, ad smiled at fond memories that he was not even certain were his own.

The great frieze with the fallen Time Lords Borusa, Mellethon, Caratharan and Sigfiredoradortankalaka, and the body of the Great Rassilon, waited for him, and as soon as he materialised, the voice boomed out.

"What do you seek Doctor?"

"My Lord Rassilon," the Doctor replied, his voice impassioned, "I need your aid! Our world is dying, as an evil force conquers it!"

"I know," Rassilons' great voice boomed. "I know well how our world falls – but this is the Last Contact, that was foretold so long ago. Our own arrogance has led us here. If our people had not tried to prevent their existence, the Daleks would never know about us, and would never have tried to develop Time Travel."

"I know that!" the Doctor said. "And I ask that you forgive us, as we need your help now!"

"I cannot help, Doctor," Rassilon said. "Our people must pay for their arrogance – as must our world. I am sorry – but you must see my point."

The Doctor sighed, and turned on his heel.

"You may find, my honoured Lord Rassilon," he threw over his shoulder, "that you might be the one who needs us."

Rassilon was silent as the Doctor transmatted out.

--

Gallifrey's fall was slow but sure. Daleks swept through every single corridor, killing everything.

Romana was crying. This was her failure, nobody elses. If only she had worked harder trying to persuade the Daleks of peace... but no, she realised bitterly. This was the only way it would have all turned out. She was starting to regret not asking the Sontarans to come in - they might as well have shared in the annihilation of this pointless war, and they would have enjoyed it.

The Cybermen were no good - they fought all right, but nowhere near anywhere useful. She was regretting helping them too. Ah well, she thought to herself. At least I had an alright innings. She got a hold of herself and sat up.

To find the Ninth Doctor smiling at her.

"Doctor?" she murmured.

"C'mon Romana, I need your help!" he grinned. She looked at him, with that old 'good times just round the corner' smile, and she believed.

--

The Master had already set everything up. Well, almost.

"So... what exactly will this do?" Romana asked.

"Oh, nothing much," the Doctor replied from under a console. "Open the Eye of Harmony, unleash the powers of hell... that sort of thing."

Romana's eyes widened.

"Doctor - that will destroy Gallifrey as well," she said.

The Doctor came up and looked at her, and she saw in his eyes a sort of sorrow mixed with determination mixed with amusement.

"Have you looked out of the window recently?" he asked. "Only there's not much of a Gallifrey left to destroy. Most of the Capitol's overrun. In fact, I just bet you the Daleks will get in here in a few minutes. How's it going?!" he called to the Master.

"Quite well," the android said. "In fact, I think it's ready!"

"Marvellous!" the Doctor said. "Now we wait."

He stood up and faced the only door into the room. It was a couple of seconds before Romana asked what he was waiting for.

"Our friends the Daleks," the Doctor smiled. "I want to make a fantastic exit and I really feel it would be nice for a few of them to actually see me destroy them!"

"Hm," the Master said, coming up behind him. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather just be shut off."

The Doctor turned to him and shushed him. "You can't feel pain anyway, I imagine this is going to be rather unpleasant."

Even as he spoke, the door clanged, as Daleks tried to get in.

"Ah, they're here," the Doctor smiled. Romana turned to the door, and stood next to the Doctor.

"Haven't you got a plan?" she asked.

"Nope," he replied. "Apart from giving a hliariously witty last word or five."

"To go out with dignity is enough for me," the Master smiled.

The Daleks broke in, the door falling asunder. Dozens of them swarmed in, and surrounded the Doctor.

"Hello, boys!" he said. "I say, isn't this the bit where you say -"

"Exterminate!" the Daleks chorused.

"Yes that's it!" the Doctor grinned, right before a dozen Dalek energy bolts smashed into him, throwing nhis body right, left and sideways. He was finally released from the bolts, and he grinned at the Daleks one last time before collapsing. Romana simply closed her eyes, and waited for death. It was given to her. As for the Master, he had been true to his word, and shut himslef off. But too late, for even as Romana collapsed to the ground, the Eye of Harmony began to open, and the Time Vortex was slowly, but surely, unleashed...

--

Half a mile away, near the wreckage of the TARDIS bays, the Cult of Skaro - or rather, the four survivors who remained, namely Sec, Caan, Jast and Thay, opened the Timeship codenamed the Genesis Ark. Thousands of Dalek troopers flocked in, following preset hibernation orders. As the last Dalek flew in, the Void Ship opened, and the Cult flew the Ark inside. Then it closed, and slowly faded away into the void...

--

From space, it looked something like this. The planet slowly became enveloped by a great, multicoloured, psychedelic haze, that swept across the entire world, vaporising everything it touched that didn't have adequate shielding. the Citadel was so old, and so wreathed in Time Energy, that it survived, albeit a ruined and wrecked as the Daleks had left it, but the people - both Time Lord and Dalek - were annihilated.

Then the haze spread out, touching the Dalek fleet, and destroyig it. The only ship that escaped was the Emperor's, and even it was damaged, and it's occupants sent half mad. But apart from that, nothing survived. The haze slowly faded, and eventually, there was nothing left. No one had survived this Time War, except for the Dalek Emperors ship, the Cult of Skaro, and one little TARDIS, shpaed like a Police Box.

--

It was called a Delta Wave. He had planned it meticulously. With the TARDIS, he could set it so that it could affect only Dalek DNA - destroy the lot of them. Easy. He was lucky he had the TARDIS – without its precise systems, he could never have done anything to stop the Daleks – the Delta Wave would destroy them all.

When he set it off of course, the power involved fried him - leaving his Eighth Body a withered husk, nearly dead. But it was a good way to die, stopping the evils that had tried to end his world, and fortunately, he could still regenerate, so that's what he did, the energy sweeping over him, letting his wounds heal...

When it was over, he popped his head out of the door, expecting to find a victory celebration.

He found a wreck.

There was nothing there. Noi Time Lords, no Daleks. The Capitol weas a husk. There were no bodies, no crashed casings. Just the ruined city.

He wandered around for a while trying to find clues, but he found nothing. He reasoned that his other self must have unleashed the Eye of Harmony upon the Daleks, thus destroying them and Gallifrey too.

It was a cold, solid fact, now.

He was the last of the Time Lords.

--

"And that's how it came to it," the Doctor finished. "After that, I looked in a mirror and realised that I _didn't_ look like Count Duckula, then I wandered aimlessly for a bit, regenerated again, and finally ran into you on Malcassairo..."

"And the rest, as they say, is history," the Master finished. "I almost wish I'd been there, now."

"Well, you weren't," the Doctor said, looking at the floor. "You weren't anywhere. You were trapped in a watch while the war was fought."

"Don't remind me," the Master murmured.

"So now what?" the Doctor asked.

"Simple," the Master said. "My plan continues, and you sit here and watch."

He stood up and smiled.

"Goodbye, Doctor."

He walked out, briskly and smartly, leaving the old Doctor to watch him go.

_**The End.**_


End file.
